


Siree Sees

by jessipalooza87



Series: The Dark Crystal: Whispers of Truth [2]
Category: The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26188375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessipalooza87/pseuds/jessipalooza87
Summary: Thank you very much for reading my story! This is part of a series that I very much plan to continue, though I do not have a schedule for when I will be posting chapters. If you have any constructive criticism, please feel free to post it, as I am always looking to grow in my writing.
Series: The Dark Crystal: Whispers of Truth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896172
Kudos: 1





	Siree Sees

The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange warmth over the Crystal Desert. Ripples of light shifted in the sands like fish swimming through the sea. Those that did not know the desert would never know if it was sunset or sunrise.

Siree knew.

The Dousan Gelfling sat on the edge of her favorite cliff. It was worth the hours-long hike for the view alone, but she came for the clarity. White eyes cast their gaze over the expanse of sands and cliffs. Her silver tattoos flickered with the orange light of the sun, shimmering like the hallucinations of oases below, like glass upon the sand. Her locks of long, white hair tugged over her shoulders from the dry breeze and she sighed to add her own wind. She wished to truly become one with Thra, and it was up on the cliff that she felt as close to it as she might ever reach.

For the moment, she sat with a gentle crunch of the sand beneath her. Her deep blue robes flared out around her, and her few trinkets and pouches jingled to rest. She smiled to herself and began to sing to herself, as she always did each and every day. It was a short melody that was solemn in tune, but grounding to her soul.

_Benaub tsoe  
_ _Oabei miami nu  
_ _Pumtsa beza  
_ _Oam tsianoosa_  
_Pumtsa beza  
_ _Oam tsianoosa_

Her last note was gently lifted from her tongue and carried on another desert breeze.

One finger drew a circle in the sand.

Her striking eyes closed and she reached to her side for the small leather pouch that was secured with yellow twine and wooden beads. Within, there was a dull clacking as she shook once, twice, thrice...and then turned the pouch over.

Runes of bone tumbled out of the pouch and fell into place within the circle. Only when they stopped did Siree open her eyes once more.

People of her 'family', particularly the Sand Mariners, called her a Death Speaker. She was not inclined to disagree with them, though she was not so certain that it was death that she was speaking to. No matter what, she listened.

One by one, she shifted the runes that were facing down out of the circle, each drawing a line in the sand in its wake. Curiosity caused her head to tilt to one side. There were only thirteen runes, but seemingly infinite meaning and sayings within them all. She had listened to many of those sayings, many of those tales.

In all of them, never once had a single rune been left to speak to her.

_Alone_. It was the plainest meaning of the single rune. Each rune meant many things, each giving context to the other before it and after. Siree took those meanings, that context, and translated. She spoke for the runes, and the runes spoke for death. For it was only death that had the ability to look back and see ahead. It was only death that held that ability.

_Forgotten._ It was the second thought that entered her mind. Similar to the first, but different enough. With no context to work off of, all she could do was sigh. Reading the runes was like plucking loose threads from a gown; the more runes that were left, the fewer threads she had to pluck before she could see the finished, clean piece.

This gown was nothing but loose threads.

Siree took a deep breath in, focused her eyes onto orange glow in the distance, and centered herself once more. She would need to for so hazy a message. Her white eyes closed, and she began to pluck and pull.

_Alone. Forgotten. Helpless. To want. To need. To take. To ask. To serve._

_To serve._

A flash. No. A whisper?

_To serve._

Death was whispering to the runes and the runes - the single rune - was whispering to her. The threads began to pull at themselves, clearing the way.

_Serve._

_Assist._

Siree opened her eyes and said aloud in a voice not her own, " _Help._ "

The word resonated so loudly that she was almost certain she screamed it. It echoed through the desert, through her body; the single syllable was an irregular throb of her heart, the force of which nearly caused Siree to lose her balance. One hand flung back to catch herself and she shook her head to regain her focus. Her gaze locked onto the run and it was all she could hear.

_Help. Help. Help. HELP. HELP._ **_HELP._ **

"I will," she said aloud.

The rune went silent. It was death taking her words as a promise, she could feel it. She could not disappoint death.

Siree gathered the runes and dropped them back in the leather pouch. Last to be put away was the one she had the pleasure of speaking for. She stood and as she tied the pouch to her waist, she took one last look at the sun on the horizon.

It was a beautiful sunrise to leave with.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading my story! This is part of a series that I very much plan to continue, though I do not have a schedule for when I will be posting chapters. If you have any constructive criticism, please feel free to post it, as I am always looking to grow in my writing.


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